by Diana Palmer
“God, I’m tired,” he murmured. He ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it, and sank into the deep, soft armchair by the fireplace, crossing his legs. “I don’t give a damn about Wagner, and I had to sit through a program of it that nearly drove me to drink. Do you like Wagner, Meredith?” he asked, pausing to light a cigarette before he looked at her.
She shook her head. “I like Debussy and Dvorak.”
“The romantics.” A smile touched his chiseled mouth. “I might have known.”
“You don’t like them, either, I suppose?” she fished.
He studied her quietly. “I like Debussy, Neil Diamond, Kenny Rogers, Rachmaninoff, Stravinsky, and Alice Cooper. Does that answer your question?”
She laughed softly and her eyes widened. “Alice Cooper?”
“Don’t knock it, honey,” he grinned. “Music is music, and I like it all.”
“Really?” She darted a mischievous glance at him. “I thought you older people only liked waltzes and fox-trots.”
“Older people?” He stood up, the cigarette smoking in his hand and moved lazily to the desk, perching himself on its edge beside her. “Would you care to elaborate?”
“Well,” she replied, the proximity making her nervous, the scent of his expensive cologne drowning her in sensation, “you just don’t look like a man who’d like hard rock,” she replied.
One darkly masculine hand, with its sprinkling of hair, reached out and touched the curve of her throat, coaxing her face up. His eyes met hers, dangerous, deep, holding her gaze until she thought her heart would jump out of her chest.
“Your heart’s racing,” he murmured, his fingers playing havoc as they traced the throbbing vein in her neck.
“I…Is it?” she managed in a strange, husky voice.
He leaned down until his breath was whispering across her trembling mouth, until his dark eyes filled the room.
He drew back as she swayed helplessly toward him, chuckling like the devil he was. “Don’t worry, little girl,” he said softly, “I don’t rob cradles.” Taking a long draw from his cigarette, he stood up with a taunting smile at the nervous wreck he’d left in the chair before him. “Come on, Dana, let’s get some coffee and cake. I barely touched my supper.”
“C…coffee and cake?” she faltered.
“Aren’t you hungry, honey?” he asked with one raised eyebrow. “God knows I am. Have coffee with me, at least.”
“All right.” She tugged her calm mask back in place, unaware of the mischief in the dark eyes she couldn’t see, and followed him to the kitchen. That he wanted her company was enough to kindle a glow in the pit of her stomach.
She made coffee while he sat quietly at the kitchen table and watched her.
“I never thanked you,” she murmured, pouring water into the automatic coffee maker.
“For what?”
“Going with me. Staying with me. Easing the hurt,” she replied, glancing at him past the silky curtain of her long hair.
“I’d have done that for my worst enemy, didn’t you know?” he asked with a hint of smile. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t credit me with too much compassion. I never make investments without a guaranteed return.”
“What did you get out of it, then, except a lot of expense?” she asked. “And I’m going to pay you back, every penny,” she added firmly.
“You can work it out,” he told her, not bothering to argue. He leaned back in the chair, his darkness, his broadness tantalizing in the silence and the privacy of the kitchen. Her eyes were drawn against her will to that spray of black hair peeking out of the unbuttoned white shirt, and she was remembering how it had felt under her hands that night she danced with him at the lake….
“You’re staring, Persephone,” he taunted.
Flushing, she drew her eyes back to the coffee maker. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
“Why not? It fits.”
“You wouldn’t like it if I called you Pluto.”
“Damned straight, and I wouldn’t advise you to try it. I like mine with cream,” he added as she poured coffee into the two big, thick mugs. She paused to lace his with cream before she set it in front of him.
“You always pick on me,” she protested, dropping into the chair across from him, vulnerable in the soft blue dress with her hair spreading like yellow satin onto her shoulders, her eyes huge and brown and wistful. “Why can’t I hit back?”
“Honey, you’ve got a foolproof method for getting at me, and you don’t even know it.”
She stared at him blankly. “What?”
But he only shrugged. “Forget it.” He sipped his coffee absently. “What were you doing up—waiting for me?”
She blushed furiously. It had never occurred to her that he might put that interpretation on it. “I…I just couldn’t sleep,” she hedged. “And I needed to finish that…all right, I was thinking about Mama and I needed something to do,” she admitted finally, wearily.
“It passes, Dana,” he said quietly. His fingers absently stroked the coffee mug. “I remember when Janine died…”
“Your…your wife?” she asked gently.
“My wife.” He stared down into the shimmer of light that reflected in the deep mug. “It was a merger more than a marriage—her family had cloth mills, mine manufactured clothing. But I’d lived in the same house with her long enough to miss the scent of her perfume in a room, or the sound of her humming when she dressed for a night on the town.” He chuckled. “God, I even missed the nylons she left strewn across the floor. Neatness wasn’t one of Janine’s better points. She was the unhappiest woman I ever knew. She laughed all the time, but her eyes died before she did.”
“You loved her?”
He studied the softness in her eyes, the vulnerability. “At that point in my life, little girl, I didn’t really know what love was.” He watched her quietly, and there was in his expression something totally adult, masculine and provocative. “Dana, you’re so very young,” he said in a tone that made her blush.
“Try to burp me, and it’s going to be a free-for-all in here,” she warned quietly.
A swarthy grin cut across his face. “Honey, if I ever take you on my lap, it won’t be to burp you.”
She lifted her face defiantly, ignoring the heat in her cheeks. “You only just got through saying you don’t rob cradles,” she reminded him.
He chuckled softly. “I have to keep your age in mind. Occasionally I forget that you’re eighteen years my junior.”
“Seventeen,” she corrected him. “I’ll be twenty-three the day after tomorrow.”
He held her eyes in the silence, looking his fill while her heart shook. “I was already a man when you were just born, Dana,” he said gently.
Her gaze slid over the lines in his face, his broad, chiseled mouth, the darkness of his skin…touching it with her eyes. “Adrian…”
“What is it…something you’re afraid to ask?” he mused. “I don’t bite.”
“Did you…I mean, most men…” she trembled over the words. “Did you ever want children?”
Something—brown sunlight, an explosion of autumn leaves, a burst of brown flame—touched those dark eyes and dilated them. “Why did you ask that?” he queried gently.
She dropped her eyes, afraid that he might see the answer. “I just wondered.”
He put out the stub of his cigarette and finished his coffee. “You’d better get some sleep, little one. It’s very late. No, leave the cups, let Lillian get them in the morning.” He held the door open for her. “I never did get my cake.”
“Oh, did I forget…Adrian, I can still cut you a slice—” she began.
“It’s just as well,” he replied, clicking off the light, “I’m heavy enough without it.”
Impishly, she put out a slender hand and touched the hard muscle of his stomach above his belt. “You’re big, not heavy,” she teased.
He caught her hair and tugged her face up with a firm, steady pressure, moving closer so
that she could feel the warmth of his body, so that the scent of him filled her nostrils.
“Come here,” he murmured, and bent his head to touch his mouth very gently to hers in a kiss that brought the stars spinning down.
He drew away a heartbeat later, his face solemn, his eyes quiet. “Better than cake,” he whispered deeply, and a slow, wicked grin touched his mouth. “No calories.”
She managed to smile back and disengaged her hair from his hands. “Goodnight,” she said, turning away to hide the effect that brief kiss had on her pulse.
“Dana?”
“Yes?” she replied without turning, at the foot of the staircase.
“I want children very much.”
Stunned, she met his eyes, saw the dark gentle smile in them, and couldn’t find words to answer him. She only nodded and turned away, curiously breathless.
The next afternoon, Dana was sealing a letter when the phone rang and a familiar deep voice came over the line.
“What are you doing?” he asked lazily, as if he had all the time in the world to talk to her.
“Getting out a letter, to that textile equipment company you wrote to about the buttonhole machines,” she replied softly.
“Learning the textile business, are you? I’ll have to take you through one of the plants. How about tomorrow? I’ll take you to lunch first.”
“A…all right,” she murmured, taken aback at the invitation, at the caress in his deep voice. It was as if last night had lowered all the cold barriers between them.
“By the way,” he added, “call Fayre and tell her I won’t be able to make it tonight. I’ve got to fly up to South Carolina for a meeting. And get me a reservation on the next flight to Greenville.”
“Yes, sir,” she said absently, jotting down notes.
“Dana…!” he threatened.
“I…I mean, yes, I will,” she replied quickly, omitting the “sir” this time.
“Behave, brat. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yes…” She stopped again, just in time.
“Try ‘darling’,” he suggested in that deep seductive tone he could use when he wanted something. “Later, honey.”
The line went dead, and she sat there holding the receiver as if it were a fragrant rose, just looking at it for a long time afterwards.
Fayre was stunned by the news that Adrian wasn’t going to take her to the ballet, and Dana caught the full weight of her disappointment.
“I don’t see why he couldn’t fly back tonight,” she said icily. “We’ve had tickets for three months, it isn’t as if he didn’t know in time! What kind of meeting was it?”
“I don’t know, Miss Braunns,” Dana explained patiently, toying with her pencil. “He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask.”
“Cute, aren’t you? Did you make that appointment for him?” Fayre asked pointedly.
“To get him out of town, you mean?” Dana laughed shortly. “Miss Braunns, what he does is no business of mine except where my job is involved. I don’t want to be here any more than I want to live in the Colombian jungles, but I don’t have a choice. If you want to know why he isn’t coming back tonight, you call him and ask him. For all I know, he may have two women…”
“How dare you?” Fayre spat. “Nobody talks to me like that!”
“Adrian does,” Dana replied calmly.
There was a long, burning silence on the other end of the line, and she could feel her ears burn. “You little tramp,” Fayre hissed. “I’ll get you for that if it’s the last thing I ever do. You’re not cutting me out with Adrian…!”
Dana put the receiver down with a thud. She found herself shaking with rage, with humiliation, with apprehension. This would just give Adrian another stick to beat her with. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? She sighed. Fayre would have irritated her anytime, anywhere—she was just naturally abrasive. But her relationship with Adrian made it worse. To think of that small, too-sweet face pressed against his dark, broad chest…
The phone rang. Hesitantly, she lifted the receiver, her heart thudding, expecting disaster in a deep, angry voice…
“Hello?” she murmured.
“Miss Meredith?” came the reply. “This is the Juliane Travel Service. I’m confirming your reservation on the flight to Greenville…”
She listened to the pleasant female voice with a tiny smile. Sometimes, heaven was kind.
The morning of her birthday started off backwards. She overslept and missed breakfast. The phone went wild the minute she walked into the office, and it was after ten a.m. when the rush finally stopped.
Lillian poked her head around the door. “I haven’t been able to tell you—the Mister said Frank was to bring you to his office at eleven. Sorry, honey,” she smiled. “It’s been a busy morning, hasn’t it?”
Dana smiled. “Very. I know what it’s all about—he’s taking me on a tour of his plant, one of them, anyway.”
“Oh, is that it?” Lillian asked with a strange smile.
“Of course.” Dana stood up. “I’d better start getting ready, I guess.”
“Wear something pretty,” Lillian said with a wink.
Adrian was waiting for her when she got off the elevator and stepped out onto the carpeted floor of the Devereaux Textile Corporation offices.
His dark eyes went up and down the soft sleeveless beige jersey dress that clung to her slender figure like a second skin, narrowing to the upswept hairdo that lent quiet elegance to the simple lines of the dress.
“Nice,” he remarked quietly. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded. Her eyes darted around to the desks sitting outside the offices.
“I’ll give you the two-dollar tour another time,” he said, and took her elbow to lead her back into the elevator, ignoring the intense, curious stares his employees were giving the slender young woman at his side. “Do you like crepes?”
“Crepes? You mean, like strawberry crepes?” she asked, all eyes as she looked up at him in the cozy confines of the elevator.
He studied her in silence, his dark eyes sketching the soft lines of her face. “Little taffy kitten,” he murmured gently.
She flushed, lowering her eyes to the deep polish of his shoes.
Soft, deep laughter drifted over her head. “Crepes can be a main course as well as a dessert, Meredith,” he told her. “I’m going to take you to a creperie at Lennox Square for lunch.”
“Lennox? But that’s almost in Buck-head, have you the time…?” she exclaimed.
“The plant I’m taking you to see is on the way,” he told her. The elevator stopped and he stood to one side to let her out. “Besides,” he added, “I have to pick up something at the jewelers.”
“Oh,” she murmured weakly. An apology present for the dragon, no doubt, for missing the ballet.
In the parking lot, he put her in the back seat of the sleek silver-gray Rolls and slid in beside her, leaving the traffic to Frank, who took it in stride.
Dana glanced at Adrian where he sat beside her, one big arm carelessly thrown over the back of the seat, his dark eyes watching her.
“Dana.”
“Yes?”
His dark fingers stretched to touch the silky bun at the back of her neck. “Take it down.”
“I…I thought it went well…with the dress,” she faltered, his nearness, the dark sensuous look in his eyes making her tremble.
His fingers touched her cheek, her soft mouth. “Take it down, sweetheart,” he whispered.
The endearment made her pulse go wild. With shaking fingers she tugged out the hairpins and fumbled at the clasps, letting the long, silky length down around her shoulders. She dug a small brush out of her purse and trailed it through the taffy-colored strands. When she put the brush away, his fingers tangled gently in the loosened hair. “God, I love your hair,” he murmured deeply, his eyes meeting hers in an intense stare.
She couldn’t say a word. He was too close, too overwhelming at this range, with his hard, d
ark face filling the world.
He moved away abruptly with a hard sigh, his attention going to Frank. “How about some music, Frank?” he asked gruffly. “It’s been one hell of a morning. I could use a little soothing.”
“Nothing I caused, I hope?” she asked in a small voice, remembering Fayre.
He chuckled. “Fayre, you mean?” he asked with a knowing smile.
Blushing, she nodded.
“I can handle Fayre, little one. If she’d wanted to go to the damned ballet that much, she had the tickets and no shortage of prospective dates. I don’t have any strings on her, and she doesn’t have any on me.”
Dana stared down into her lap. “She’s very beautiful.”
“Oh, Fayre’s decorative. But it isn’t for her looks that I keep her around, honey. You aren’t that naive,” he added meaningfully.
“No,” she murmured, I’m not.”
“You don’t approve?” he laughed softly. “Men are creatures of strong appetites, little innocent, and mine were never lukewarm.”
She felt her face going red and cleared her throat. “Uh…I like the music,” she said quickly, listening to snatches of the tape. “Isn’t it Scherezade?”
“It is,” came the amused reply. “Frank, turn it up.”
“Yes, sir,” came the equally amused response from the front seat.
Adrian left Dana peering in store windows on the spacious mall while he strode purposefully into the jewelers. Her mind swept away by the gorgeous, ultra-chic outfits in the window displays, she was barely aware of time passing until he came up beside her.
“Ready? Or would you rather window shop some more?” he asked with a smile.
She shook her head. “I enjoy it, but I am a little hungry.”
He studied her face. “If you like, we’ll come back another day and I’ll buy you one of those ensembles.”
“Oh, no! No, thank you!” she said quickly, embarrassed. Did it look as if she wanted him to outfit her, had she given him the impression…!
“Stop it, for God’s sake!” he said shortly. “My God, Dana, there isn’t anyone who’s less a golddigger than you…Don’t you think I know you by now?”
